Arabian Nights and Crusader Days
by TravelerOfTheNight
Summary: Jenny is a French princess. Rescued by Saladin, she now lives in Cairo. When the 3rd Crusade looks impossible to win, Saladin calls on the old friends of Egypt, shadowmen, to help. But nothing is free, and their leader Julian knows his price...Please R&R!
1. Prologue

Title: Arabian Nights and Crusader Days

Rating: T

Summary: The year is 1189. Jenny, is a French girl born in 1173. She is 16, the ((fictional)) daughter of Louis VII of France who led the 2nd crusade. Spurred on by religious hate and a lust for the Holy City of Jerusalem, Henry II of England and her brother Philip II of France start the third crusade, though Philip's motivation also includes rescuing his younger sister Jenny, who has been captured by Saladin. In 1180, Jenny was sent to Antioch by her father to serve Stephanie of Milly, as well as to learn more about Islam. On her way to Antioch, passing through Edessa, Jenny is "kidnapped" by Saladin. She is to be a companion to his ((fictional)) daughter, Kamilah, so that she can learn French and the ways of the west. In 1189, when the siege of Acre and the Third Crusade begins, in the face of inevitable defeat Saladin calls on the old friends of Egypt to help him capture Jerusalem: the shadowmen. But the creatures of the shadow world don't do anything away for free, especially when the youngest, fiercest, and most vital shadowman warrior, Julian, wants Jenny for his own…

Disclaimer: I do not own the Forbidden Game trilogy, as that belongs to L.J. Smith. The characters seen in FBG belong to her, but this plot is mine as well as any made-up figures like Kamilah (though Saladin, Richard I, Raynald, Stephanie, Louis VII, Henry II, and Philip II are actually from history). The scenes that I show in this story are my attempt at a semi-accurate portrayal of life during the time of the crusades. Also, if there are any discrepancies with my dates/research, I would appreciate any corrections you might have!

A/N: A Jenny-Julian story that you have never seen before.... an upcoming crusade, a desperate king, and Jenny far away from home. Too bad the shadowmen don't like to do favors, and I hear that Julian has his eye on the perfect compensation. PLEASE REVIEW!! :)

Prologue-- Jenny POV

Sometimes at night, as I lie in the softest bed I have ever felt and breath in the sweetest perfumes, wrapped in a nightgown of eastern silk, I can imagine it all away. I can see myself back at home, in France, playing with my older brother Phillip or rolling around in the hay outside what one could not have called a castle. My name is Jenny, and I was the Princess of France, the daughter of King Louis VII and the sister of Prince Phillip II. I remember the days that changed my life very clearly, as they are the only important memories I have left.

It was a thawing spring morning, and I was bouncing off the walls with excitement. The coming of spring, like with any new season, meant a bath—which did not happen often because clean water was so precious—though as a royal I was luckier than the Jacques, or peasants, who only got to wash once a year. The household servants had filled a small washbasin with water, which was then heated and brought to my room. My mother's ladies-in-waiting (I was too young to have my own) scrubbed the dirt from my cheeks and arms and removed the leaves from my hair: at seven years old, I still found it amusing to make myself filthy before bath day. As hard, colorless soap was rubbed through my hair along with crushed flower petals for fragrance, I felt like the most important person in the world. How naïve I was, to think myself, and France, on top of the world. I was very, very wrong.

When my golden hair had been brushed (the servants loved to coo over the color of my locks, and spent hours braiding it; most people had dull brown hair, whereas mine sparkled like the sun) and I had been clothed in a new dress of stiff cotton my father called me to his chambers. A ceremonial spring crown of leaves was placed among my curls before I was sent to the visit. When I approached the open door of his apartment, he didn't hug me like he usually did—I remember my childish mind wondering, "Why is he sad?" A messenger stood erect next to his writing desk, letters and forms in hand.

"Jenny," my father spoke slowly, "I am sending you to Antioch to learn about Arab culture from Stephanie of Millie. She will be your mentor. Think of the new things you will see!" he 'exclaimed', the excitement leaving his mouth in large bubbles of dreams that popped quickly. I was being sent out of France. 'Quoi?' was the only word that could leave my mouth. I was stunned. Quoi? What? What was he talking about?!

The King of France, my daddy, stood and motioned to the messenger, "Jean will take your bags; they have already been packed for you. Viet viet, your party will leave in a matter of minutes." I felt tears begin to fill my eyes: Nile-green, my father's generals called them, men who had fought in Egypt during the Second Crusade. Wordlessly, I took the ribbon _mon pére_ placed in my minute, now-clean hands as he helped me into the carriage.

"Au revoir", I whispered. The tears staining my cheeks came faster when my ears heard an "Adieu". This was not the type of answer I was hoping for. You only said 'adieu' when someone was leaving forever.

The wooden planks of the carriage were stiff underneath my legs, as down cushions were a luxury that only presented themselves after a big duck hunt. The lumber floor beneath me began to move as the slender horses, whose protruding ribs were hidden below dozens of flower garlands, started trotting. I carefully tucked the lime green ribbon into my bag while Jean settled into the seat across from me. His livery was that of Raynald of Châtillon's, the husband of Stephanie. He couldn't have been much older than fifteen, the same age as my brother. Jean smiled at me, like a boy trying to be kind to his younger sister. I frowned and turned to look out the window.

I was seven years old, and it was 1180. It took many weeks for us to leave France, and everywhere the Jacques recognized the fleur de lis of the flag soil-covered faces tried to catch a glimpse of me. By the time we crossed the Rhine, I was speaking to Jean. He told me about the things he had seen in the eastern parts of Europe, the Middle East, and other places so exotic sounding I swore he made them up. I was in awe of his stories. But midsummer we were nearly halfway to Antioch, and in my mind Jean's face had transformed from that of a pockmarked, goofy adolescent to a wise adventurer who had traveled the world. Some of his stories seemed ridiculous and false but, now that I look back on my memories of his voice, and the parallels I have seen in these last few months, I wonder if he was telling the truth after all.

A/N: What did you think? Next chapter some more characters (from FBG and my imagination) will be introduced. This research took a lot of time so I appreciate any comments!


	2. Memories, Makatabas, and Men

Title: Arabian Nights and Crusader Days

Rating: T

Summary: The year is 1189. Jenny, is a French girl born in 1173, is 16, ((fictional)) daughter of Louis VII of France who led the 2nd crusade. Spurred on by religious hate and a lust for the Holy City of Jerusalem, Henry II of England and her brother Philip II of France start the third crusade, though Philip's motivation also includes rescuing his younger sister Jenny, who has been captured by Saladin and his wife. In 1180, before her father's death later that year on Sept 18, Jenny was sent to Antioch to serve Stephanie of Milly, the wife of Raynald of Châtillon, as well as to learn more about Muslim/Christian tension in the area that would inevitably lead to the 3rd crusade. On her way to Antioch from France, passing through Edessa, Jenny is kidnapped by Saladin. She is to be a companion to his ((fictional)) daughter, Kamilah, so that she can learn French and the ways of the west. In 1189, when the siege of Acre and the Third Crusade begins, Saladin calls on the old friends of Egypt for help in battle to help him capture Jerusalem: the shadowmen. But the creatures of the shadow world don't give anything away for free, especially when the youngest, fiercest, and most vital shadowman warrior, Julian, wants Jenny for his own….

Chapter 1: Memories, Makatabas, and Men

**A/N: Okay, so first off, thank you so much for all of the great reviews I got! You guys really made me want to post the first chapter so I could get more great feedback! I'm glad that you enjoy the originality of this fic as well as the historical facts that I have injected into it :)****. As I now have more free time to post more chapters, I am hoping that I will be able to focus on the plot very thoroughly and to make the chapters super long and detailed! I apologize in advance if any of the Arabic phrases I use are incorrect, as well as any physical inaccuracies with my description of the Castle of Saladin. It is a structure that actually exists in Cairo (which I will be seeing in exactly 7 days, yay!) but I took a bit of creative license on it's interior. Hopefully my upcoming trip to Egypt will give me more ideas and details! Enjoy. **

Disclaimer: The Forbidden Game trilogy belongs to the amazing L.J. Smith.

1189

Cairo, Egypt

Jenny POV

When my childhood memories married the pungent scents of eastern perfumes I was easily carried into a state of dizziness and then sleep. As if rising from a coma I awoke early in the morning from the first call to prayer, or adhan. The sound of a single man's voice coming from the citadel overshadowed the bustling rumbles of Cairo. I shivered as I recalled my first experience with the call to prayer at dawn; it shook me to think that one man's voice was all that was needed to call thousands of people to the mosques around the city so that they could pray towards Mecca.

My servants bathed me in chilled rose water, which was refreshing and fragrant against the sticky, dusty air. I was wrapped in a cool silk robe with dozens of gauzy layers and shades of turquoise. Jewels were wrapped around my neck and wrists to show status and wealth, but with my unique looks, mostly everyone here knew who I was. I gasped slightly as the sharp smell of kohl permeated my room while the cold fingers of Lekha, one of my servants, brushed the makeup onto my eyes. Much like in France, they were amazed by the lustrous gold tone of my hair—here everyone had dark locks and skin. It bothered me sometimes that many of the servants loved to brush my hair and observe its color, but for the most part I had gotten used to the strange behavior. I was not Muslim, but out of respect for the religion on holidays like today I arranged a sheer scarf loosely around my face and shoulders before leaving my chambers.

"Sabal el-khair," I greeted my guards with a nod, before wandering through the airy halls of the castle. My leather-sandaled feet traced the Arabic script on the marble as I headed in the direction of the maktaba, or library. All around me servants rushed through the halls, carrying dishes, trays, cloth, and scrolls in every direction. Armored guards in groups of two or more marched down the halls in a quiet and intimidating manner, protecting the castle from inside as was their duty. From some far corner of the castle I could hear the muted sounds of a group of musicians playing some sort of war ballad. This was definitely not the home of Stephanie of Milly, the place where my father originally intended to send me; I was living in the Castle of Saladin, the home of one of the most well-known and respected Muslim warriors, and had been for the better part of my life. My emerald eyes had never seen the walls of Antioch, nor its rulers.

I grinned when one of the kitchen boys silently passed me a hunk of dark Egyptian bread and a small jar—my favorite breakfast food—as I passed the warm ceramic tiles that led to the rooms where bread, meat, desserts, and fresh fruits always seemed to be in preparation. I plucked a minute ball of pliable bread from beneath the hard crust and rolled it between my fingers, dipping it into the jar of honey I had been given before placing the steaming sweet concoction in my mouth. My pale, uncalloused fingers itched to caress the parchment of Egyptian scrolls as the larger-than-life doors of the maktaba called to me from the end of the hall. "UKHT! Sister! Wait!" I heard a voice call amongst a flurry of giggles. I turned to see my "sister", companion, and best friend: Kamilah, Saladin's only child.

The seventeen-year-old had gorgeous onyx hair underneath her headscarf, with soft brown eyes and skin to compliment it. "Eziak?" she asked happily, seeming too joyous for normalcy. "I'm fine, shoukran. Is there something you wanted to tell me?" I replied. A necklace of pearls smiled barbarically like that of on older sibling holding back a toy. "Follow me and you'll find out," she teased in a singsong voice, so I had no other choice but to go after her.

My mind settled into the comforting hum of familiarity as I followed slightly behind Kamilah (she _was_ the princess after all—here I was just Jenny, where my royal heritage mattered little unless topics of marriage were the focus. My connections to Saladin and his daughter were considered more important.) as she led me to one of the many courtyards. White tile glowed gold in the sun, flowers sparkled like precious gems, and a dancing waterfall threw over the grass a blanket of diamonds as we entered this tiny, untouched corner of paradise. She settled herself on a plump cushion as I opted for the ground: I much preferred the glossy, healthy green grass. No one would interrupt our conversation here, the seriousness on Kamilah's face indicated that it was something important, and as a couple of gardeners took notice of our presence they nodded in our direction and left the vicinity.

My _or_ hair spilled from my gauzy dark blue scarf, the sun melting it into a river of precious metal as I cocked my head. "So?" I inquired, "what was it you wanted to tell me?" Kamilah leaned back gleefully; she had my full attention. Her ruby lips twisted into a sad sort of smile as she began telling me her news. "Well," she began, "as you know I have recently become seventeen, the respectable age of marriage, and your seventeenth birthday is fast approaching as well. Isn't it so exciting that by the end of next week we will both be seventeen? Anyway, for the last couple of years my father has worked with me and his top advisors to ensure that I will become the first wife of a very powerful leader who will not only benefit our empire but also make me happy. The candidates for marriage have been narrowed down to several men, and I have a few more months before I must make my final decision and announce the engagement."

I nodded, absorbing the words that fell seamlessly out of her mouth like the water that flowed from the cascades of dyed liquid that surrounded us. Birds chirped out a melody and attempted to steal a hunk of my breakfast bread, but I payed them no heed. The things that Kamilah was telling me, while painful to accept because I would be losing my best friend to marriage, a husband, and a family, were not unexpected. I motioned for her to continue. She took a breath, "Now, while my future is falling into place after years of preparation, my father and I have decided to take it upon ourselves to personally select you a husband. This would ensure not only that you could remain at the castle, or nearby, in complete safety, but also that you could receive a title more meaningful than 'princess' of France that would be more respected here in these parts. Wouldn't it be great to have you stay here forever, ukht, with your best friend, your husband, and your family?" My jaw dropped. I felt the stirrings of an angry dragon in my blood that threatened to go on a rampage, but I did not allow it to go on a killing spree just yet. I pursued my lips and contemplated what Kamilah had just told me.

Marry me off? This sent a wave of sadness through me, because of the many differences between France and Egypt. Not only did the Muslim men take more than one wife, though I had a feeling that Saladin would make sure that I was the first, a more respected position than second or third wife, but back in France everything would have been different. My father, who died when I was seven, several months after I had arrived in Cairo instead of Antioch, would have chosen my husband for me. My brother, now King Phillip II, would have been the one to ensure that I was happy and safe. It had been many years since I had left France, never to return after being "kidnapped" by Saladin in order to befriend his daughter, but I had half-heartedly hoped that some day Phillip would come and rescue me from this strange place where life was so different, and I could go back to France and sink into a life of normalcy and nostalgia.

That did not seem possible now, for if I was married, then surely not only would Saladin and Kamilah's family fight Phillip's men, but also my own husband would try to prevent this. Was Saladin afraid of King Phillip II invading Cairo to save his long-lost younger sister? Was there some sort of political trouble brewing on the horizon, and in order to appease a man of high status Saladin was going to give me to him? Did he just see me as an extra daughter, a refined, beautiful, exotic western girl that he could marry off to an Egyptian man to ensure more political ties and alliances? How could I even get married now when I felt so young, when I had so much more to learn and do and see? Angry did not even begin to describe my current state of mind. I struggled to remain calm.

"Was there someone that you and your father have in mind for me for a husband?" I asked her. Kamilah grinned wildly; she thought that I had accepted her idea. "Yes," she said excitedly, "he is twenty three years old. He started out as a soldier in the army, and already he has worked his way up to the position of general. He comes from a very good background, and he spent a year learning in Europe. You would be his first wife, of course." I licked my lips, trying to steady myself when it seemed like the grass was going to fall out from under me. "Wha-what is his name?" I asked her shakily.

"Tom," she replied simply. "Seeing as you have practically agreed already to the marriage, after meeting with him sever times (though I assure you, he will meet your approval) my father and I plan to announce your engagement next week, during the celebration on your birthday." Tom.... where had I heard that name before? Oh no, oh no. How could the Gods do this to me? I prayed to God and Allah and whoever would listen as I hoped with every fiber of my being that all of the stories that I had heard about this Tom were false. The grass _did_ disappear from under my feet, and I spiraled into the blackness until something soft stopped my fall.

**A/N: Poor Jenny! Being forced into an arranged marriage with Tom... I can't imagine that's good for one's health! Review with your thoughts please! :) Oh, and I tried to provide as much context as possible for the French and Arabic words that I added to the text (I hope they're correct!) but if still don't understand the meaning of a word feel free to ask me. Comments are appreciated as always and will certainly speed up my writing process. **


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